


The One That Got Away

by MirabileDictu



Category: Spree (2020)
Genre: (duh), Crimes & Criminals, Drugs, F/M, Flirting, Mentions of Murder, Social Media, brief (but not explicit) reference to violent death, implications of childhood neglect/abuse, it's really mostly not, lots of swearing, spoilers for the movie obviously, the tags make this sound heavy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:15:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29473836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirabileDictu/pseuds/MirabileDictu
Summary: His voice trailed off. It was no use, trying this spiel with London. Now he was face to face with someone – not justsomeone,but this smart, understanding woman who seemed interested in what he had to say – the corny language he was so used to spouting in his videos suddenly felt all wrong.lil rewrite/expansion of a sequence from the movie that made me Feel Things. Kicks off with a scene you’ll recognise, but goes in a different direction. (Is ‘you are the only exception’ a genre? It should be.)
Relationships: Kurt Kunkle/London Sachs
Kudos: 4





	The One That Got Away

“What the fuck? Stop! Stop!”

Kurt threw his head back and laughed. He’d really lucked out with the latest booking. Three passengers together... What had Bobby said? “Add some WTF moments or GTFO.” If he played this right, he could get his count up to seven in one fell swoop. He felt invincible.

The guy, Richard, was the one who’d requested the Spree. He’d tumbled into the backseat in a fug of overpowering cologne, barely noticing Kurt; he was holding his phone up, preening for a selfie, admiring his bleached-white quiff and heavily lined eyes in the soft glow of Kurt’s lights. A drunk girl followed Richard, spilling out of her flimsy gold dress and practically landing in her friend’s lap. She pouted up at Richard’s camera in the sort of showy pose that Kurt found weirdly repugnant.

With them was a quieter woman whose face he hadn’t really caught sight of. It was hidden behind the soft swing of her long, dark blonde hair, which fell over her shoulders in waves.

Frederick and Andrea had really just been practice runs. He was just getting started back then – those kills already seemed like something that happened days ago. Mario had been the most satisfying so far: the unmistakable thud of the first impact, the gratifying crunch of the wheels as they rolled over him... His douchey behaviour towards that comedian with the _seriously_ impressive content only made the payoff sweeter.

But this? This was truly going to be amazing.

\---

Now the three passengers were screaming as he swerved the car back and forth across Hollywood Boulevard, overtaking slow drivers, narrowly avoiding oncoming traffic. This wasn’t the main event, though. He knew exactly where he wanted to take them, and that meant he couldn’t mess around too much. No sense ending up with the cops on his tail now, especially after that near miss at the gas station. Reluctantly, he slowed down a little.

“I got it!” Kurt yelled, pulling the car back into the correct lane as the girl and the guy carried on shrieking. “Guys, I’ve got it!” He was surprised they weren’t more into this, to be honest. Weren’t they meant to be partying? _So boring,_ he thought, or did he say it aloud? “I’ve got it.”

Kurt checked his rear-view mirror, ready to smirk at their shocked expressions, but instead he briefly locked eyes with the quiet woman, the one in the leopard-print shirt. Panic surged back into his system, and he did the first thing he thought of: fumbled for the switch that controlled the custom neon lights lining his Spree ride.

“Oh my gosh, check this out.” He flicked the switch, changing the lights from white to yellow. They hadn’t been cheap, but he knew he had to have something to bring the interior to life after dark. Otherwise, nobody on the stream would be able to see what was going on, no matter how many cameras he’d set up. Plus they made his car look fucking cool.

“No one cares about your stupid lights, dude,” whined the girl in the gold dress, her voice high and nasal, vocal fry inflecting every syllable. “You almost just killed us.”

 _That’s kind of the idea_ , Kurt thought, allowing himself a small, private smile. _But not quite yet._

“Come on, you guys, this is what we said we wanted. An adventure.”

The other woman was speaking. She looked a little older than the others – or did he just mean more mature? – and her voice sounded calmer and cooler, with none of the dialled-up LA affectation he hated so much. He wondered what she was doing with these two.

“No, London,” the girl in gold droned. “Things that we can put on the ’Gram, that’s it.”

So that was her name? London? _It doesn’t really suit her,_ he caught himself thinking. He shook his head. Why was he even thinking about this?

“You know what? Whatever,” London snapped back. “Next time why don’t you guys just buy a fucking Groupon and count me out, you pussies.”

Kurt jumped as she threw her shoes, followed by her handbag, over his shoulder and grabbed the back of his seat, hauling herself up. What was she doing? She wasn’t going to climb into the passenger seat, was she? It had happened before he knew it: one second she was in the back of the car, and the next she was slipping into the space next to him, settling in with a sigh. He could smell her perfume, something musky with a hint of citrus.

“Is this okay?” she asked, her voice low, like she didn’t want the other two to hear. Kurt’s heart was hammering. “Yeah – yeah, sure,” he answered quickly, trying hard not to trip over his words.

And then she reached over and touched her fingers to his face. A soft, light touch, like she was simply brushing away a stray bit of fluff. A jolt of energy fizzed through him.

“Don’t listen to them, because I think you’re a badass.”

Kurt felt like he might suddenly forget how to breathe. Not trusting himself to take his hands off the wheel, he glanced nervously across at London. She was gazing at him like he was something interesting to look at.

It was so strange, he thought, how he spent so much time trying to get people to see him. _Follow for follow! Make sure to tag me! Smash that subscribe button!_ He loved having an audience, loved the thought that someone sitting in their bedroom or gazing into the black hole of their phone was watching him. But those people were watching Kurt’s World. London was gazing straight at Kurt Kunkle. Someone looking closely at you like that – it was totally different.

Her eyes were wide and deep, but he didn’t have time to register whether they were blue or gray before he heard a strange noise behind him and his attention was dragged back to Richard and the girl in the back seat. Richard, he saw with horror, had pulled his power drill out of the trunk and was revving it.

“No!” Kurt made a grab for the drill, succeeding in wrenching it out of Richard’s grasp. “No, no, no.”

“Don’t touch his drill!” chorused Richard and the girl, dissolving into giggles like it was the most hilarious thing ever. Anger bloomed in Kurt’s chest. He had to get this thing back on track. The Lesson had to be his focus, never mind anything else. If he lost Bobby’s attention, he didn’t like to think what might happen to his chances of going viral.

“You know what? I think... I actually think I know what you guys want. Get people to think you’re having, like, a big adventure, like, a total WTF moment, am I right?”

He quickly glanced at the camera to his right, proud of himself for getting that in there. A nice little Easter egg, just for Bobby. And for the other fans who were hopefully watching by now. He almost checked his phone, wanting to see if he’d reached double digits yet, but something stopped him. Maybe it would be better if he didn’t let on to these guys that they were live. It would be a fun twist to let them think he was just doing this for the sake of _their_ content.

It was definitely not because he suspected London would be offended if she realised she was on his stream right now. Nothing to do with that at all.

“Well, honestly, I know this... I know this spot that not a lot of people know. And it’s a really incredible view, and it’ll be empty right now. What if we go hit it up?”

“Yeah, that sounds cool,” London said. She was leaning close, her eyes still trained intently on his face.

Kurt tried to ignore the little voice in the back of his head, the one that told him he didn’t want to do this anymore, not with London. He focused on how much her friends were irritating him – they were huddled together now, loudly snorting coke out of a little vial, heads bent in the corner like they thought that made it less obvious.

He leaned over, making sure he was addressing them. “What do you guys think about that? Would you guys want to go? Fucking incredible spot.”

“Fuck it, sure,” slurred the girl in gold.

“Let’s fest,” said Richard. _What the fuck does that even mean?,_ Kurt thought, biting back the urge to say it out loud.

“Yeah,” said London, not sounding quite so certain.

He ignored the stab of emotion he felt then, too. It was something he couldn’t afford to acknowledge, not if he wanted this project to be the success he’d been planning and working towards for so long. It was something he thought he’d left behind a long time ago. Something that had no place in the kind of content he ached to be famous for.

Guilt.

\---

As he eased the car into the junkyard, Kurt could no longer deny that he was feeling more doubtful by the second. His mind was racing. He hoped London couldn’t tell that he was starting to sweat. Was there a way he could get rid of Richard and the girl without letting London come to any harm? No, it was impossible. It had to be all of them. He’d brought them here for a reason; now he had to stick to his original plan.

He punched the button for the sunroof, opening it all the way. It was a relief to feel the cool night air flooding in. “Alright, guys, get your phones out,” he said, addressing Richard and the girl again. He gestured to the open roof. “Get up there. Go for it.”

“Up there?” Richard stammered.

“Are you being serious? Put our heads up there?” asked the girl.

“Live a little,” Kurt said, smiling, trying his best to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

“Okay, let’s do it. It’ll be like prom,” Richard grinned. God, they really were inane.

“Get up there, guys,” Kurt urged. He couldn’t keep up this pretence of patience for much longer. Thankfully, that was all the persuasion they seemed to need. Richard and the girl clambered to their feet and hung themselves out of the sunroof. He could hear them screeching at each other, but the words were indistinct, and he finally felt like he had a moment to think. He needed to focus.

But then there was London.

“Oh my God, Kurt,” she said, her tone relaxed now the others were occupied. She’d remembered his name? He felt the blood rush to his cheeks, and there was that thought again: she was very different from them. “This place is so funky. But so beautiful.”

“Thanks, yeah. Yeah, my mom’s dad used to own this place. So I practically grew up here.” Why was he telling her this?

“Really?” It wasn’t a throwaway question; she sounded genuinely interested.

Barely knowing what he was saying, Kurt pointed to the crystal that hung above his mirror. “My mom actually found this here. She gave it to me.”

Why the fuck was he talking about his mom? He couldn’t allow himself to think about his mom.

“That’s so sweet. She must really love you.”

Kurt swallowed hard. If he just concentrated on what he was saying, and not what had happened earlier that day, he would be alright. “Yeah, she ditched my dad right after that. She used to be a major starfucker.”

“Hmm.” London frowned, studied him carefully. “That sucks, I guess.”

“No, it’s okay. My dad’s a fucking loser anyway.” Kris’s face flashed across his mind. Hadn’t he tried to call earlier? When had that been?

London had turned her head to peer out of the window, but at that, she turned back to look at him. At that exact moment, he heard the soft beep that indicated an incoming message. This time, he couldn’t stop himself from looking at the screen.

> **BobbyBaseCamp:** dude, nobody wants to see u hit on this basic bitch  
>  **BobbyBaseCamp:** already told u im bored  
>  **BobbyBaseCamp:** gonna tap out soon  
>  **BobbyBaseCamp:** she’s old af too  
>  **BobbyBaseCamp:** lmao

A surge of anger coursed through him. For a few minutes, he’d forgotten he was still streaming, and now he felt oddly exposed at the thought of Bobby listening in. He was sick of Bobby’s shit. Where was the loyalty? If it wasn’t for him, Bobby might never have got big. Who did he think he was, saying those things about London?

“Who’s that?” London asked. “Shit, you’re not in trouble for bringing us here, are you?” Confusion must have briefly crossed his face, because she immediately clarified: “With Spree, I mean. Because it’s, like... not on the way to anywhere.”

“It’s nobody,” he said. “Just some kid I used to babysit for. He texts me sometimes.”

Kurt took a deep breath and, before he could think about what he was doing, paused the stream.

\---

Kurt rolled the car up to the edge of the junkyard. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said the place had an incredible view, but you had to know the spot. Beyond the rusty containers was a parking space, just big enough for one car, that backed onto a section of the fence that had been broken for years. It was set on the lip of a little hill, a deep expanse of scrubland laid out before it – pitch black in the darkness – with the wide, flat sprawl of the cityscape beyond. It glittered in the distance, the sky glowing with light pollution.

“You wanna get out and have a proper look?”

London gave him a wide, pretty smile. “Sure.”

“Whatever,” sighed the girl from the back seat. Richard sniffed hard, obviously busy with his flask of powder again.

They piled out of the car. “This sucks,” the girl whined. “I can’t even _see_ anything. Eww, I think I stepped in something...”

London whirled around. “Oh my God, Kendra. Can you shut the fuck up for one minute?”

“Well, sor- _ree_ , bitch. I’ll leave you and your _boyfriend_ to it.” Framed in the car’s headlights, Kendra threw London and Kurt a big fake smile at the same time as giving them the finger. Then she wobbled off towards Richard, who took her elbow, and the two of them put their heads together again, Richard hooting with laughter at something.

London turned to Kurt and smiled, as if in apology. “LA’s a weird town,” she said. He thought she was going to follow that up with something about how she knew her two companions for the night, but instead she said: “My mom used to be an actress. Or she wanted to be, at least. That’s how she ended up living here.” She moved closer to the edge, brushing the tips of her fingers against the long grass. Kurt thought about how she’d touched him earlier.

“Did your mom...” He tried to figure out how to word the question, aware his speech sounded awkward. “Did she ever, like, make it?”

London laughed softly and shook her head. “No, it never happened for her. But she met my dad, and they’re still really happy. I think we’re super lucky, actually.”

He studied her profile. The city glow cast a soft light across her face. He still couldn’t tell what colour her eyes were, but she was beautiful.

\---

Kurt used to come up here a lot when he was a kid, back when Grandpa still owned the place, after his dad’s DJ career had started taking off. That was around the same time his mom and dad started fighting. His mom wasn’t always home, and when she was... Well, sometimes she wasn’t exactly _there_ , you know.

So Kurt often ended up accompanying his dad to work. It was fun at first. “You’re my little mascot, buddy,” his dad would say, and although Kurt didn’t really know what _mascot_ meant back then, it seemed like a good thing. His dad’s friends would ruffle his hair and call him “cute”, which he didn’t think he was supposed to like, but secretly, he did. Sometimes they’d give him candy. That was the best.

He learned to call his dad _Kris_ , because that was what everyone called him, and it seemed really important that everyone remembered his name. He learned there was a thing called a _personal brand_ , and that was important too – more important to Kris, it seemed, than Kurt was.

And then, when Kurt pulled on Kris’s sleeve, when he was tired and just wanted to go home, he quickly learned he’d get one of two responses. Sometimes it’d be “that’s showbiz, kid!” with a big, theatrical wink – that one always drew laughter from the grown-ups, though Kurt hadn’t understood the joke at the time. Other times, Kris would kneel down and grasp his elbows so hard it hurt and look into his eyes very seriously, speaking in a low voice, telling him that he was ruining the night, embarrassing him; he was a big boy now, it was time to start acting like a man, and men didn’t moan and whine like babies.

There was the time Kris passed out behind the bar and Kurt couldn’t wake him up. He’d had to curl up next to him on the sticky floor and sleep there. Well, _try_ to, at least; he’d been far too scared and uncomfortable to get proper sleep. That was when he was nine.

There was the time Kurt left the nightclub in Pasadena – he was going to walk home to mom’s, even though it was fifteen miles and he knew, vaguely, that was a long way – and Kris, in a sloppy attempt to drag him back inside, caught him in the face with his fist, gave him a black eye. That was when he was twelve.

He’d started making videos later that same year. It had helped, having something to focus on, something that had nothing to do with his parents’ problems. If he was honest, he liked the editing best. He could lose hours to it, zoning out as he tweaked the timestamps, coming out of his trance to realise it was three in the morning and he’d chewed his nails down to stumps.

When he was old enough, Kurt started coming here alone, whiling away the time sitting right in this spot and looking out at the view. Sometimes he’d take the bus; sometimes he’d hitchhike. LA was huge, he reminded himself. He was so lucky to have grown up here. There were so many possibilities, if only he could reach out and grasp them.

Grandpa died when he was sixteen, and the junkyard got sold off. His mom used some of the money to pay off the mortgage on the house in Azusa. The rest of it... Wherever it had gone, Kurt hadn’t seen a cent. The number of empty beer cans and bottles always piled around the Kunkles’ trash cans probably explained that.

\---

“Do you like your job, Kurt?” London’s voice broke into his thoughts. She was looking at him kindly. How long had he been standing there, thinking about the past?

He plastered on a smile. “The cool thing about Spree is that you’re interacting with people all the time. It’s amazing for...”

His voice trailed off. It was no use, trying this spiel with London. Now he was face to face with someone – not just _someone,_ but this smart, understanding woman who seemed interested in what he had to say – the corny language he was so used to spouting in his videos suddenly felt all wrong.

He took a few steps to the edge of the hill and sat down, pulling his hood back over his cap, hugging his knees to his chest.

“My dad’s, like, this big DJ,” he heard himself say. “He met my mom when she was really young. Like _super_ fucking young. She was only a teenager when I was born. When I was a kid she... wasn’t very well and she... couldn’t really look after me properly. And my dad – ”

His voice was getting all choked up, but now he’d started talking, he didn’t want to stop. He could feel London sitting down beside him. He could feel her reaching for his elbow, her touch light, barely there.

“I used to have to go to work with him all the time and it was... Honestly, kind of a, um. A shitty experience.” He gave a mirthless laugh. “This was where I used to come to get away from all that. That’s how I found this view...”

This was where it got hazy. Did London really wrap her arms around him, rest her head on his shoulder? He was telling her all these stories about his childhood, they were just spilling out of his mouth, things he’d never told anyone before. For once, he wasn’t repeating words, wasn’t stumbling over what he wanted to say; he was speaking clearly, quickly.

He couldn’t have said how long it lasted, this monologue, but he knew she was listening.

Kurt blinked. London was sitting a little to the side of him again, her face turned towards him. Had she really been so much closer? But the way she was looking at him... Patient, caring, tender. Like she would be happy to just listen to him forever. Suddenly aware of the silence, he realised he hadn’t answered her original question.

“So... I. Yeah. I like being a Spree driver sometimes, but also, it’s kind of exhausting. People treat me like a servant. They can be so. So mean – it’s like you’re not even a real human being, you know? And I... I guess I don’t really know what I want to do. With the rest of my life, I mean.”

He swallowed.

“I don’t know what I want to be.”

He only realised how true the words were as he spoke them.

“It’s not like you have to do this forever, right?” London nudged him gently, gave him a small smile. “You’re so young, you have loads of time. You can do anything here.” At the word _here,_ she spread her arms wide to indicate the panorama beneath them. “Be whoever you want.”

 _I have less time than you think,_ he thought. _And I already chose who I’m going to be._ For the first time, he felt more empty than excited at the thought of all that lay ahead.

He registered the others calling London’s name, sounding very far away. As London twisted around, pulled herself up from the grass, she traced her hand across his waist. Later, it would be unclear to Kurt whether that conversation had actually happened the way he remembered – whether he’d really told her all that stuff about his parents – but that touch. He knew that touch was real.

Kurt imagined what it would be like to make a run for it with London by his side. He could stop The Lesson now, drop Richard and Kendra off somewhere, ask her to go with him. All he really had to do was drive south and get them across the border. How did that work? He had no idea, but it couldn’t be that hard, right?

He watched her as she walked ahead, heading back to Richard and Kendra, who were still standing close together, still giggling. “Hey, guys,” she called, her voice high and happy. “Look at this photo I got of the view!”

He couldn’t involve her in this. He knew that.

London looked over her shoulder and smiled again. Kurt smiled back, though something about it felt painful. She held his eyes for a few seconds, and he tried to keep the image of her face fixed in his mind.

\---

They were back in West Hollywood, Richard and Kendra elated to be among the bright lights of the city once again. The two of them were striking a pose for yet another selfie before London was even out of the car.

She dipped her head back through the passenger window. “I apologise on behalf of the absolute dicks I am _totally_ ashamed to call my friends,” she said, smiling at Kurt as the others made faces in the background. “It was really nice meeting you. Hey, listen –”

“London, are you giving him a _five star rating_?” Kendra called, emphasising the last three words as if they meant something extravagantly filthy.

“Something like that,” London called back, grinning. She was riffling through her purse; she found what she was looking for, a dog-eared business card, and thrust it across the seat.

LONDON SACHS  
FREELANCE CONTENT CREATOR  
213-309-8759  
hello@london-sachs.com

“Wait. You... you do content?”

She laughed. “I _know_. It sounds so dumb, doesn’t it? Basically, it means I write. Websites and things. Sometimes even _tweets_.” She widened her eyes comically.

“I – I didn’t realise.” Why hadn’t he asked her what she did? There was so much he should have said.

“Anyway, my number’s on there. I mean, you don’t have to, but like...” Her tone had turned bashful. Wait, was _she_ embarrassed?

“Come the fuck on, London!” Richard shouted.

“One second, Richard! _Jeez_.” She turned back to Kurt, and the look on her face had changed. Now she looked serious and concerned. She reached out and laid a hand on his arm.

“Kurt, are you gonna be okay?”

He realised his face was giving him away. He rearranged his expression, forcing himself to smile. “I’m cool. I mean, I’ll be cool. So cool. Don’t worry about me!” He was trying to instil his words with a brightness he no longer felt.

There was still the shadow of a frown across London’s brow, but she smiled as she pulled back from the window and gave him a little wave. “Look after yourself.”

He watched as she walked away. For a second, she looked back, and then a truck pulled up beside him, obscuring his view of the street, and when the stop light changed and the truck sped away, she was gone.

\---

His phone pinged with a five-star review from Richard – maybe the guy wasn’t such a douchebag after all? No, wait a minute... No tip. Definitely a douchebag.

His finger hovered over the LiveFly app. He should really un-pause the stream. _Bobby could have left by now,_ he thought, an idea that filled him not with the expected panic, but with a strange calm.

He switched apps and opened a new message instead. There was something he needed to do first.

\---

In another timeline, another Kurt logged out of Spree and went home for the night. His mom was asleep in the armchair again, and he cleared away the dirty plates and quietly covered her with a blanket before flopping into bed. He scrolled through his notifications, surprised to see that the bitchy real estate lady had actually left a really generous tip. The covers pulled over his head, he half-watched Jessie Adams’ Joke Bros set (pretty good), his mind more focused on the WhatsApp conversation he was having with London. They were making plans for next week. His stomach turned over every time he saw _typing..._ next to her name. He couldn’t wait to see her again.

It was a fantasy he allowed himself, just for a moment.

But it was too late for all that now.

***

London knew it was ridiculous that she kept thinking about the Spree driver.

Really, that whole thing had been a mistake. A night out with Kendra, her bratty younger cousin, might’ve been just about bearable if Kendra hadn’t insisted on inviting her insufferable best friend. Once Richard had showed up, he’d immediately slated London’s favourite dive bar – “only cool if you’re, like, a _mom_ ” – and dragged them to a tacky tourist club in WeHo for several excessively sugary cocktails. Then he’d drunkenly ordered a Spree with no idea where they were meant to be going, mumbling something about “wanting an adventure”. London had trailed around after them, feeling about a hundred years old as they pouted for bathroom-mirror selfies and obsessively monitored the number of views their Instagram Stories were getting. Meeting Kurt had been the only bright spot in a horrible night.

Not that she wasn’t kind of mortified now she looked back on it. Had she really climbed into the front seat? Had she _really_ leaned over and touched his face? She’d never normally be that forward. She blamed the couple of lines of shitty coke she’d let Richard talk her into. And that wasn’t something she’d usually do either, but honestly, having to spend time around Richard was enough to drive anyone to drugs.

For the hundredth time, she opened the text she’d received from Kurt just as she’d stumbled through the door of her apartment. She re-read it with the same concentration she had the first time, and every time since:

> It was really cool to meet you tonight, London. I chose my path already and maybe you’ll find out what I mean someday, but I hope you don’t. You made me think about how things couldve been different. Maybe if I was a different guy lol. PS I wish I got to see what color your eyes were. K x

It was really sweet, but that stuff about having “chosen my path” was straightforward enough, if a bit dramatic: clearly, he had a girlfriend. Well, of course he did. He was cute, and obviously a nice guy too – she’d seen a softness in him when he’d talked, briefly, about his mom and dad.

Not to mention that he was way too young for her. When she thought about it, he might have been ten years younger than her. More, even. That was just embarrassing. _Pull yourself together, London._

Still, she kept thinking about him.

She’d been sleeping off her hangover for the best part of two days now – this shit was harder in your thirties. She’d lolled on the sofa, watched reruns of _The OC,_ ordered takeout, and allowed herself the luxury of ignoring social media. But it was Sunday afternoon now, and if she didn’t at least get the grocery shopping done today, she knew she’d be mad with herself for wasting the whole weekend.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she’d been putting everything else off until she’d dealt with the text, once and for all. She put her phone down. Picked it up again. She read Kurt’s text another few times and, before she lost her nerve, quickly typed five words.

> My eyes are dark blue

Trying to keep her head empty except for the shapes on the screen, she wrote another message and pressed send.

> Also, I know Richard is a total cock and prob didn’t give u a tip so lmk if I can make up for that sometime. Coffee?

And finally – her heartbeat speeding up now – she added,

> xxxx

\---

On the way to the grocery store, London decides to call into the coffee shop in Los Feliz – the one with the friendly barista she really enjoys chatting to. She’s just left, and Kendra is calling her. That’s weird: Kendra never calls; she’s more of a texter. Or Instagram DM. Or WhatsApp. Or whatever. Basically, Kendra hates talking on the phone. London doesn’t really want to speak to her, but what if it’s an emergency? She taps the screen and tucks the phone against her cheek, balancing her iced latte in her free hand.

“Kendra, what’s up?”

“London?” Kendra sounds like she’s out of breath. “Oh my fucking God, London. Have you seen the news?”

London rolls her eyes. Kendra can be such a drama queen. “Yeah, you’re gonna have to be more specific...”

“Just look at fucking Twitter or something. It’s the Spree driver. That fucking Spree driver. The Rideshare Murders. It was HIM, London.”

\---

Mateo will work as a barista for two more years before he lands a job working lighting on the reboot of _Game of Thrones_ , but even then, he’ll never forget the day he saw his best customer stop dead, scream, and drop everything she was carrying right outside the shop. He can almost persuade himself he saw the exact instant her phone hit the curb and shattered. That _howl..._ He’s never heard anything like it, before or since, not even when his boyfriend Shane stepped on an upturned nail that went all the way through his foot.

That moment is burned into his memory partly because of what was playing on the screen behind the counter. It was just after the Rideshare Killer had been identified. The big networks wouldn’t show the footage of his stream, but everyone knew about it, and every local channel had it on a loop.

The funny thing is, there was a girl in that footage that really looked like the customer – London, she was called; unusual enough to remember in a neighbourhood of Olivias and Madisons and Harpers. But obviously, it couldn’t have been her. There was no way that guy would have let someone get away.


End file.
